


All of my devotion turns violent

by hnymoon



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hnymoon/pseuds/hnymoon
Summary: There were feelings that Roman didn’t want to delve into. There were feelings that he could only enjoy while they were unexplored, while they stabbed at his chest. When he tried to look at them, they melted away.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	All of my devotion turns violent

I.  
There were feelings that Roman didn’t want to delve into. There were feelings that he could only enjoy while they were unexplored, while they stabbed at his chest. When he tried to look at them, they melted away.

The first day of management training, after hanging up the phone on Gerri, he laid down on the bed, looking at the ceiling. His mind was deliciously blank and his vision spotty, and his limbs fell heavily on the mattress as if he had been running a marathon. Immobilized in this state of torpor, he worked hard to keep the thoughts from rushing in just yet and instead he let the familiar waves of shame wash comfortably over his body while he closed his eyes.

His last orgasms had been truly pitiful; desperate wanks in moments of boredom or frustration that worked him up and left him wanting more, the slight taste of completion he was able get always just a step away, but never enough. He didn’t want to think about what had caused this one, he didn’t have the brain power to enter that minefield, but his whole body felt finally at rest.

Porn just didn’t work for him. He usually didn’t mind watching, in fact it was the only thing he ever did at orgies; he liked being on the outside, telling people to fuck each other, wielding his power in a different way. His thing with porn was, it forced you into the point of view one of them, when what he liked was knowing he wasn’t a part of the experience. Not only he felt uncomfortable and disgusted with that, it was icky to see so much bare skin on camera, and the fake moans made him cringe.

However, he had decided that he was reformed now, so normie sex and porn was it.

But women had always a problem for him too. He liked Tabitha, liked her tall body and lean figure, and loved that he could be comfortable with her, generally (she didn’t ask too many questions, but wasn’t uncaring either). But for some reason, he hadn’t realized it would be the same as with every girlfriend he had had before: he always felt like he had an unspeakable secret, only one that he didn’t quite know what it was. The secret clawed at him from the inside when she slept beside him, but he was incapable of grasping it. He wished she could just intuitively know what he needed, the things that he didn’t know himself, and give it to him without questions, without Roman having to pronounce all the words unintelligibly stuck in his throat.

That made him think of Gerri again. While he was at the brink of unconsciousness, his mind hazy and dark, a certain voice saying the words “slime puppy” went through his head, and his spent cock gave a twitch.  
II.  
Management training had become much easier now that everyone knew who he was. He could do whatever he wanted, sneak out of classes without anyone saying anything and do a mediocre job in every assignment. He wanted to focus, of course, wanted to get a good report to bring back home and show daddy, but the whole thing was just so humiliating, and he got bored easily.

Plus, he was always catching himself thinking about Gerri, which made the work even harder. The morning after the phone call, he woke up feeling exposed, vulnerable. A hole in his chest. It took some seconds to remember what had happened. Since then, the whole day had just been an attempt not to text her the first stupid thing that came to mind, to see if she said anything about it or treated him differently.

He hadn’t realized how dependent he had become on her. After she had saved his ass with the whole satellite launch debacle, hearing her voice had become just enough to feel safe. While he was in a lecture, hearing some bullshit about voting shares and how they work (didn’t he know this already? He was sure he had learned these things at some point in business school, though the time was a blur of drugs and partying. Besides, wouldn’t he have someone else concern themselves with this stuff, as COO?) he re-read Gerri’s texts. He could imagine every grin, every eyebrow raise and eye roll that came with the written words. He had memorized how her spoken language and her body language worked together, the cues, how they danced with each other. She always managed to be comforting, sweet, but also direct and cutting. Made him recall an almost-forgotten memory of his childhood, when the vet had gently stroked the head of his dog, who had been too sick to walk, while giving him the lethal shot. 

Was he that lonely without her, that he had started thinking of his dead childhood dog?

“Hey” Brian was still sitting next to Roman, but he avoided addressing him by name, like it would invoke some ancient and wrathful Roy spirits. “Dude, this is actually interesting. You should be paying attention. They’re talking about…” he lingered off.

His father. He didn’t know how to explain to a normo like him that hearing about his father was the baseline experience of his life. That while others got to have a life for themselves, his father walked into every room with him. 

But he put his phone down, and tried to listen. His leg was bouncing and he fiddled with the Waystar Royco pen they had given everyone, but he was actually making an effort. Gerri’s soft and firm voice stayed in his ears, like a kind of distant hum.

III.  
Roman managed to stay focused for a couple of more hours, until something broke in his head and all his attention span was gone. He was in a different class now, some workshop for fostering creativity or something. They were sitting in groups and coming up with a pitch, while the lecturer patronizingly orbited around the tables. He hated sharing a space with all these people.

He had tried to have a coffee during the break, just to stay awake and conscious, but after he had accomplished to learn how the machine worked he had discovered that it tasted ashy and stale, and not even the plastic-looking pastries could wash his taste buds. How could fucking real-life American people drink that? 

Of course, he thought, there were other drugs to stay focused, but he was trying to behave. The nuisances of being reformed.

Roman started fiddling with his phone, and it all went back to Gerri and their texts. He stared for a few minutes at his screen before sending a message:

I have just been force-fed instant coffee. Might litigate.

He kept fiddling with his phone, looked away from it, tried to participate in the discussion and found out his group had completely forgotten about him being there. He had completely lost the thread. They were talking about the food they served in theme parks, and how they could deliver it inside the park with an app. Roman thought about how none of these idiots actually knew anything about making apps, how he would never even get near the park food, and how none of this would ever concern him in any way. He looked at his phone again. Gerri didn’t usually take this long to text back.

He stood up and left the room. Nobody said anything about it. 

In the hallway, he felt the black hole that he had woken up with in his chest getting bigger. He decided to ignore his vertigo and look right at it. He phoned her.

“Hello, Rome” Gerri’s voice sounded softer than he expected, no cutting edge anymore. Fuck. Was she taking pity on him? Did she suddenly see him as some sort of sad little boy, wailing for his mother’s teat? 

“Fuck you. Why are you not texting back?” he started moving towards the bathrooms. He could have murdered anyone who heard the panicky tone his voice was taking. 

Gerri laughed softly, breathing out of her nose. He pictured her right eyebrow coming up, a slight curve in her lips. 

“I was in a meeting, Roman. I am not your babysitter. And you are not suing anyone”. Her voice was snarkier now. Her eyes narrowing a little, a grin. He went into the bathroom. A long line of stalls, a strong smell that was supposed to indicate cleanliness but he could only imagine the amount of dirt it was covering up.

“Roman, why are you calling?”

“I-I don’t know. I was worried? Fuck you”.

“Roman, calm down. You’ll be fine. How’s the second day coming around? Are you making the most of it?” it was the same motherly tone as before, but he couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“I fucking hate it here. I just escaped from a workshop and I’m hiding in some slimy bathroom” he said that casually but hoping she would notice the choice of words.

She scoffed. “Well that’s disappointing, isn’t it?” it seemed like she had noticed. Roman could actually hear the grin in her voice.

He felt himself getting hard.

“I don’t know, Gerri” he said. “Is it?”

He heard her heels clacking somewhere fast, and then a door locking, the sound atmosphere changing. Suddenly, they were alone. 

“Oh, Roman, you disappoint me so” she continued. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

Roman knew his ragged breathing could be heard from the other side of the line. He wanted to say something but words didn’t have a place in his head anymore: it was all Gerri, her blonde hair, her voice, the way her blue eyes glinted while she was being vile and ruthless to some random jerk.

She laughed. “So. You wanna do this again?” 

Silence.

“Answer me” she scolded.

“I— Gerri” he hated how pleading his voice sounded. He locked himself in one of the stalls.

“How dare you be calling me for this? This is disgusting. You make me sick, Roman”.

His pants were already down and he couldn’t help leaning forward against the wall. If she heard his soft moan, she didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, you heard that? You really make me sick, rubbing your pathetic little dick while you should be doing something useful instead. Is this all you’re good for, Roman?” 

He figured there was no point in trying to be silent. Right now he wasn’t really in some concrete building in deep America, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in. He was completely enclosed in Gerri’s gestures, her half-smile, her curved eyebrow, her bitterly yet caringly spat insults. 

He moaned and whimpered against the cold tiles while his body built up tension.

“Go on. I don’t have all day to hear your pathetic whimpers, Roman”.

That made it for him.

After a few moments of catching up his breath he dared to not hang up and hear if Gerri would say something.

“Roman, you really can do this. You just need to start taking yourself seriously”

Don’t feel sorry for me.

“Good luck”.

After she hung up, he realized his left hand was completely numb from gripping his phone. There were painful red marks on his palm and he could barely move his fingers. Still short of breath, he saw his semen splattered all over the tiles. Something compelled him not to leave it like that, even though nobody would even know it was him, and he squatted on the disgusting floor to make sure there was not a single stain. He thought he could really start being good.

**Author's Note:**

> not happy with how it turned out but it will have to do sigh


End file.
